


Reefer Madness

by ClockStrikesMidnight



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti)
Genre: M/M, One Shot, Reddie, Underage Smoking, big cool kid richie, first time smoking, innocent baby eddie, lil gay babies, stoner au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-28
Updated: 2020-03-28
Packaged: 2021-02-28 18:26:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,416
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23331613
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ClockStrikesMidnight/pseuds/ClockStrikesMidnight
Summary: Eddie bought some weed in a moment of teenage rebellion. It's not until he gets home that he realizes he doesn't know what the hell to do with the damn stuff. Good thing he knows someone who can help.Richie/Eddie AU where they just are pre-teens trying to figure their shit out without worrying about a murderous clown.
Relationships: Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier
Comments: 2
Kudos: 19





	Reefer Madness

_Why does it look like mold, no one told me it was going to look like fucking mold and why, why would anyone choose to_ inhale _mold, like ew, terrible, you know how bad that could be for your lungs, not to mention what it would to do to your_ brain, _oh god I was way over my head with this…_

Eddie Kaspbrak sits alone on the edge of his twin bed staring a bud of marijuana directly in the face as it sits innocently on his bed side table. He’s been here for the last twenty minutes, trying to decide whether or not he could get his eight dollars (given as 32 quarters because his mother _insists_ there are more germs on the porous surface of dollar bills than in the hardy, tried and true coinage) back from Bev, because honestly, there’s no way he’s going to make it out of this without having a panic attack and he had been washing a lot of dishes for those quarters.

“When you get home make sure you get to a window, somewhere no one can see in, and bring with a wet paper towel to exhale into. It’ll help with the smell.” Beverly had said this as if it would answer all of the questions he had, while she handed him a small baggy with a little green fluff ball inside. Eddie had never seen marijuana before, heavens, he barely even knew what it was outside of health class and the constant insistence from post menopausal teachers that, “Now in the next few years you kids will be facing a lot of pressures to do illegal activities, and it is your duty as a _good, smart, kind_ person to not give into these pressures and encourage others to do the same”.Each adjective had sent Eddie deeper into his seat in accusation and guilt.

But for some reason, today of all days, he decided he wanted to be rebellious. He can’t even pinpoint the exact moment that he thought, “Hmm, I’d like to try a marijuana today”, it was like his legs were carrying him to Beverlys apartment complex without his permission. He had heard from Bill, Bev and Richie that they were getting into this sort of teenage thing, they had reached a point of no longer being satisfied with simple cigarettes, that was kids stuff.

“It’s pr-pr-pretty fun, actually,” Bill had said the first time Eddie asked about it. “It’s like your m-m-mind gets to fl-float f-f-f-for a bit.”

Eddie hadn’t been super excited about the idea of his brain “floating”, but again, it seems like this wasn’t even his conscious decision.

With an exuberant sigh he lifts himself off his bed and grabs the little moldy, fluffy, smelly ball of teenage rebellion, bringing it close enough to his face that he can see all the little nooks and crannies; it doesn’t do much for his peace of mind. It seems to have tiny, clear crystals coming out of it, and purple fuzzy smears that almost look like dyed cheese dust on popcorn. He sighs again.

_You can do this you idiot, it’s fucking fine._

He brings it to his mouth before another thought occurs to him, _you have to inhale such a thing, not eat it, dipshit._

Right.

Um.

Looking through his desk, he tries to find anything he could use as a sort of (bong, is that what they’re called?) smoking device. Nothing much seems too useful, and it suddenly hits him that he doesn’t even own a lighter, and that the only one in the house his mother keeps in her “secret drawers” which Eddie is too terrified to investigate for the fear of finding XXXL lace panties or a stack of cheesy romance novels and he really doesn’t need those images in his mind. His mind races for a moment, trying to think of a solution. Eventually his mind lands on one almost fool proofsource of encouraging rebellion, adorned in wavy hair and inch thick glasses.

_Richie fucking Tozier. Of course._

Another sigh. He takes the small green menace and shoves it into his front pocket, pulling his teal t-shirt down enough to cover the small bump that grows there. He turns to look into his full length mirror and shifts in the light to see the different ways it could be seen through his pant pocket. It doesn’t seem too conspicuous, but he decides to put a slingshot on top of it for good measure. He leans his head against the door to his room, which he’s had closed since he got home about 45 minutes ago and he’s just now realizing how surprising it is that his mother hasn’t banged her meaty fist against the door with a psuedo-coy voice saying things like, “Eddie bear, what’s the matter? Open up would you? Eddie honey you know mommy doesn’t like when you close the door it cuts off circulation. Eddie do you even know how much oxygen your little lungs need? _Eddie, open this door.”_ Maybe she’s not home? He checks his watch, ‘5:14 pm’, no she should definitely be home. Maybe she went out for errands without telling him? Maybe she’s napping? Maybe she knows, oh god maybe she knows and she’s waiting on the other side of his door to rip him a literal new one. Oh god, oh god, _oh god._

Before he can change his mind he clicks his lock and squeaks open the wooden door softly. There’s a slight hum from the living room which he recognizes as the television, blaring away some senseless game show that his mother enjoys watching. He shifts carefully around the corner of the hallway, avoiding the creaky spot on the hard wood flooring, and pokes his head around the corner to see his mothers enormous arms resting on the recliner she so frequently melts into. For a moment he’s afraid she’ll turn and catch him snooping and then he’ll be in for a whole new kind of lecturing, but then her body twitches and he hears the soft sounds of her snoring match the television.

_Phew._

He creeps along the hallway until he reaches the front door, grabbing his honorary raincoat that hangs on a hook beside it, (“You never know when the weather will change, Eddie bear, you have to be prepared so you don’t catch an awful cold”), and flipping it over his shoulder. Before he heads out he thinks it might be best to give Richie a ring first and make sure he’s even home before he makes a lonely walk across town with _the devils lettuce_ in his pocket. If anyone stopped him he’d be sure to make a complete ass out of himself before eventually bursting into tears and admitting to his sins. As quietly as he can he makes his way to the kitchen, where the phone hangs on the wall high enough that Eddie has to use a step stool whenever he wants to make a call. Usually his mother doesn’t hear the phone from the other room even when she is conscious, so he quickly dials in Richie’s number and waits for the phone to be answered.

“Tozier crematorium, you kill em we grill em how may I help ya today?” Richies voice booms on the other line and Eddie is momentarily stunned at the idea of him answering the phone like this to, lets say, his grandmother.

“God Richie you are fucking disgusting,” Eddie breathes into the phone, covering his mouth on the one side to avoid any chance of his mother hearing. A laugh sounds on the other line, but Richie doesn’t say anything else. “I, um, I need your help with something.”

“Oh, well boy you know I’m always willing and able to help out my little Eds,”  
Richie smooth talks and Eddie can feel his cocky smirk through the phone. Eddie rolls his eyes. “Whatcha need, cutie?”

“Well, it’d be easier to explain in person, mind if I come over?” Eddie says, ignoring (as he always does) the innuendo behind Richies words. He takes a moment to peak over his shoulder, his mother still hasn’t moved. “Will you be home the rest of the night?”

“Yeah no problem, my folks are out on their official, one night only, date night so I’m in charge of making sure no strippers come over,” Richie says with a chuckle. “Everything okay over th—“

The sentence is cut short by the phone being taken from Eddies hand and hung back up on the wall. He turns with a jump to look into the eyes of his mother, her vast face unkept and haggard, and her mouth covered in dried drool. He shivers.

“Eddie, honey, who are you talking to?” His mother asks, always pretending to be the good cop at first. Eddie suddenly feels the weight in his pocket and begins to feel the sweat threaten his brow. If he lets her see that he’s sweaty she’ll definitely keep him home, no need to risk worsening a fever.

“Hi mommy, just Richie, I was asking if I could come over,” Eddie says cooly, he thinks (hopes). “Is that okay? I didn’t want to wake you.”

Sonia Kaspbrak analyzes her young sons face with curiosity and concern, her eyes not seeming to believe him, but without any evidence for the idea. Eddie holds strong and holds her gaze, keeping a tight lock on his pours. Another moment of hesitation and she sighs.

“Of course, Eddie. Be careful and home before dark.” Without another word she turns on her axis with a yawn and returns to her chair. Eddie releases the breath he didn’t know he was holding and heads to the door, his rain coat flowing behind him. Lucky for him, his mother and Richie’s mother often share tea and stories in the backyard in the summer, so she’s partial to letting him hang out with Richie more than the rest of his friends. Without waiting to test his luck he heads out the door and closes it tight behind him.

—

Richie’s house is only a couple blocks down, but Eddie feels the need to run there. He can’t tell if it’s excitement or nerves, but he knows once he’s around Richie he’ll make him feel more at ease.

Once he arrives he knocks three times on the white wood door before Richies’ ridiculous face opens it with a grin.

“Is that a slingshot in your pocket or ya just happy to see me, Eds?” Richie jokes, opening the door wider with a laugh and letting Eddie inside. He’s wearing a pink t-shirt with an open buttoned white shirt over the top that’s adorned with small cat faces. His shorts are short and comfortable and high top converse are attached to his feet despite him being inside. Eddie shudders. “Was worried bout ya there for a second, hanging up on someone mid sentence is not usually the nicest way to turn someone down for a date.”

“This isn’t a date, Richie,” Eddie says, following behind him as he walks him through his house to his room in the far right corner of the house.

“Sure, sure,” Richie says absently, opening his bedroom door and letting Eddie in first. “After you, darling.”

Eddie rolls his eyes but decides against arguing with Richie’s remarks. He knows it does no good to go against them, it usually just makes it worse, and if Eddie’s honest with himself (which he is _not)_ he kind of likes the way Richie talks to him. It’s safe, comfortable, almost more so than the rest of his more polite friends. He supposes it makes sense that’s why he called him first instead of Bill. He’s Richie, one hundred percent authentic, Richie. Shaking the thought out of his head he turns on his heels to face Richie and digs into his pocket.

“Whoa, Eds ya not even gonna buy me dinner first? How easy do you think I am? Wait, don’t answer that,” Richie says quickly, confusion obvious on his face until a ginormous grin breaks as Eddie pulls out the pathetic lump of marijuana. “Oh _shit Eddie came to PLAY!”_

Richie walks toward him and holds out his hand, to which Eddie obediently drops the bud into. Richie seems to analyze it for a moment, and Eddie thinks he looks like he should have a magnifying monocle to really complete the look. Richie turns his gaze back to Eddie and his grin seems to grow even more.

“I have no idea how the fuck to smoke it,” Eddie confesses and Richie laughs, but not in a harsh way. “I figured you’d be able to help me out.”

“Well, Eds, I have to say this is a surprise. You know this is an _illegal_ drug, right? Where did you even get this, I know they don’t have it at the pharmacy.” Eddie explains to Richie the whole story of buying it from Bev, and how he didn’t realize he’d be so inept at the process, or afraid of it. “You did come to the right place, let me show you some things.”

He walks Eddie over to his cabinet and opens the bottom drawer, most of the contents are pants, some of them look like they’re too small for a boy his size and he realizes this is his “Need to get rid of eventually” drawer. Richie shuffles around towards the back of the drawer before pulling out a small box with a skull and crossbones on the front. He brings the box over to his bed, where Eddie follows him and plops down next to him on the unmade mattress. Richie flips the box open like a magician making a rabbit appear from a hat.

“Alright alright listen up here young Kaspbrak my boy, ya got ya joints, ya pipes, ya bongs for those big ol ripper hits,” as he says this he lifts out an old plastic Pepsi bottle with what looks like a pen sticking out of it and a small disc of aluminum foil at the tip. Eddie gulps. “Maybe we won’t start with that, here hold this.” Richie puts the terrifying bottle contraption back in its place, and takes out a small, unimpressive clear glass pipe that seems to be stained with some sort of brown coating.

“Are you kidding me that’s what goes into your _lungs??”_ Eddie asks a bit more frantically than he’d like to admit. _Damnit you idiot you’re trying to be cool remember?_ “I mean, uh, looks great.” Richie bursts out laughing and claps Eddie on the back which makes him jump. When Eddie doesn’t laugh in response, Richie stops and looks him in the eyes.

“Why are you doing this Eddie? I mean, no offense, but this isn’t really your thing,” Richie says softly, and that’s one of the things Eddie really enjoys about Richie. He can be this non-sensical asshole for ninety percent of a conversation but when shit gets real he’s there to help. Eddie shakes the idea away and shrugs in response.

“Guess I’m just curious is all, you guys seem to like it,” he explains, not sure who he’s trying to convince more, Richie or himself. Richies eye contact doesn’t waver.

“You know you don’t have to do it if you don’t want to, fuck I’ll buy if from your if you’re worried about loosing your allowance on the shit,” Richie says and starts to put his box back together. It’s in that moment that Eddie realizes he is actually totally okay with this. In fact, _wants_ to try this. He’s with his friend, who he knows would never let anything hurt him, and honestly in the pure fact that it’s not being _forced_ on him, it’s not to make him cool or interesting or older, and Richie respects him regardless, makes Eddie less afraid, and, could it be, excited?

“No, I, I want to try it, honestly,” Eddie says, stumbling over his words in a very Bill fashion.

Richie smiles softly at him in return, “You sure?”

“Yes. I promise.”

“Alrighty then, let’s learn ya some stuff my boy!”

Richie proceeds to walk Eddie through his whole process. He takes the weed and breaks it up into little chunks, explaining the properties of it while he does. Apparently the crystal things are what makes it feel good, and the purple stuff Eddie had noticed earlier is just different chemicals that also make you feel good. Richie explains that ‘if he were a wealthy man’, he would be using a grinder to rip the plant apart, and get smaller chunks out of it. Eddie asks why he needs to break it up to begin with and Richie doesn’t have an answer. He walks him through the different ways of smoking, the easiest, in Eddies opinion, is the glass pipe from earlier, which he holds now in his hand. Richie explains how it works and has him feel out the way the “choke” works to inhale the stuff. Richie also shows him his stash of rolling papers, which he says you can use to get really high by smoking a lot of weed at once. He tells Eddie that some other time he’ll ‘roll them a blunt and really blast off’ and Eddie giggles nervously because it’s all his body can seem to do. Lastly he goes over the bong, (yes, it IS called a bong!), and Eddie says he’d prefer not to use such an intense thing on his first attempt; Richie accepts this and moves to fit the little green demons into the indent in the clear pipe. Eddie watches carefully, trying to soak up as much of Richie’s technique as possible, it seems like the sort of thing you need to learn over time. Eddie wonders how and when Richie first smoked marijuana and makes a mental note to ask him about it at some point. When Richie seems satisfied with his stuffing, he reaches back into his box and grabs a green lighter.

“Alright, Eds, so, you’re going to want to put your lips on the end of the pipe, and then hit the lighter. You’ll need to inhale to get it going. If you feel like you are getting to much smoke, just release your finger from the little choke hole, remember?” Richie points out the smaller hole on the side of the pipe. “Just take a little bit at first, it’ll feel kinda icky but you just gotta push past it. Once you feel like you’ve got a good amount of smoke in your mouth, take the pipe away and inhale the shit out of it. Just breathe in really heavily so it goes all the way into your lungs. Hold it as long as you can, but if you feel like you’re gonna cough, just let it happen. Hey, I promise you’ll be okay, and I’ll be here to help.”

Richie must have noticed the look on Eddies face and felt the need to reassure. “Could you go first?” Eddie squeaks and Richie chuckles.

“Of course darling,” he says. “Now watch carefully.” With that Richie puts the pipe to his mouth and lights the little green mold chunks. The smell is immediately nauseating and Eddie thinks it smells like skunks spray. _No wonder Beverly told me to go to a window._ Eddie watches as the clear section of the pipe fills with light grey smoke, and then almost as quickly as it appears, Richie releases his finger from the “choke” and clears the smoke into his lungs. With a smile he holds his breath, until he finally releases and the smoke plumes from between his lips in soft waves of grey. He cocks his head and hands the pipe over to Eddie. Eddie notices that the indent is still red with fire and smoke is billowing from it like a match. “You can just inhale that, it’s still smoking,” Richie assures, and Eddie inhales.

Immediately he feels like he’s going to cough, but against Richie’s words, he pushes through and inhales more. He can feel the smoke crawling down his throat like small slivers of a tree branch, and at the same time his head feels lighter. He pulls all the smoke into his lungs like Richie taught him, and holds his breath, feeling his body and mind getting lighter by each passing moment. Eventually he can’t take it anymore and exhales in a significantly less graceful way than Richie, coughing and choking so hard he feels for his aspirator in this fanny pack. Richie laughs in a way that reassures Eddie he doesn’t need to be worried about choking to death or running out of air.

“Well?” Richie asks, before taking another puff of the pipe as well. “Feel good?” He asks around a held in breath of smoke, and Eddie _does_ feel good. He feels _really fucking good._ It’s like Bill said, he feels like his whole body is floating outside of itself, but just slightly. He goes to move his hands and they feel like they need an extra moment before the move, but once they do they glide easily through the air without much effort from him. His eyes feel dry and he thinks he needs eye drops, but once he blinks for a hard second the sensation is gone, and he is just staring into Richie’s face with eyes that seem to see more depth than they have ever before.

“Oh yeah,” Eddie squeaks out, after what feels like an awful long time, but was probably only moments. Richie laughs again and hands the pipe back.

The two boys float in this moment of haze for a while longer before Richie announces that they cleared the bowl and clicks the ashes into an ashtray. Eddie feels like his whole body is sinking into the mattress on Richies bed, and he wonders if this is what his mother feels like all the time with her immense girth. He shakes his head, (wait, did I do that just in my head, or actually?), and the image of his mother dissipates from his mind like the dust of smoke in the room. It’s not until he feels the mattress shift under him, and the sound of music drift through the air, that he realizes Richie had moved from his spot. He turns to look at the other boy and smiles big enough he feels like the Cheshire Cat.

The music Richie put on is fast, and seems to elevate Eddie’s heart rate although he continuously tells himself that it doesn’t actually. The beat of the drums in the song make Eddies legs tap and he feels like he wants to drown in this sea of rhythm. Occasionally Richie will ask him if he feels okay and Eddie will nod, then giggle, which Richie will ask, ‘What’s so funny?’, and Eddie will laugh even harder, hard enough he can feel smiles and happiness in his lungs. Eventually Richie breaks down in laughter as well and they both lay in Richies bed clutching their stomachs and trying to remember what the fuck was so funny. The cassette Richie had playing comes to a stop eventually and they both sit up, without really realizing they had laid down next to each other.

Richie jumps up with a sharp inhale and Eddie jumps, terrified for a moment, but content once he realizes Richie’s just excited about something. Richie goes to stand and Eddie tries to follow, his legs feeling like they weigh ten times his body weight each, and stumbles enough that Richie has to catch him from falling. He laughs and puts his arm around his shoulder, walking him out of the room.

“We need to make s’mores,” Richie announces as they make their way into the kitchen and Eddie bursts out laughing again. Richie goes about gathering the various ingredients for s’mores, with the exception of chocolate syrup in place of chocolate bars, and double chocolate chip cookies in place of graham crackers.

Eddie feels his stomach growl and licks his lips excitedly as Richie puts together a make-shift s’more and hands it to him. Eddie looks into the delicious depths of black and white and eats the whole thing in one bite.

“Oh, _fuck,”_ Eddie literally moans around his full mouth. Richie bursts out in hysterical laughter and needs to wipe tears from under his glasses. The fucking s’more is so good he feels like he’s never had and will never have something this delicious again. Each flavor is multiplied tenfold and Eddie shakes his head, (again, am I actually doing this shit?), in utter amazement.

By this point Richie is eating his own and nods his head dramatically. Eddie goes to make another one before his last one is all down his throat.

They make their way back to Richies room with full yet bottomless stomachs, and Eddie can feel the weight of himself coming back and knows his high is fading. Richie even seems more sober after eating something. They both lay back in their previous position on Richies mattress, near enough Eddie can feel Richies body heat.

“Everything okay in there, Eds?” He asks, rolling onto his side to look at Eddie directly. He smiles softly and Eddies heart flutters.

“Perfect,” Eddie whispers. His eyes are still staring up into Richies ceiling, but he can feel Richies eyes on him and smiles despite himself. “Thank you.”

“Not a problem good buddy,” Richie laughs and assures, rolling back onto his back and scooting closer to Eddies side. “Thank you for sharing this with me.”

With everything else outside of this room seeming to be insignificant, the two boys lay in their mutual comfortable nest and let the flow of marijuana course through their veins. Eventually they are both sober enough that Eddie declares he should probably head home before his mother comes searching for him, and scoots off of the bed in one fluid motion, proving he’s competent enough to get home safely.

Richie walks him to the door and says thank you again for the great time, and hopes they can roll that massive blunt soon. Eddie laughs in his carefree, airy way that makes Richies insides turn, and when he returns to his bed he notices that he feels oddly empty, oddly _sad_ that he doesn’t feel the other boys body beside him.

**Author's Note:**

> Me: I just want to write a cute little short fic!  
> *almost 5000 words later*
> 
> Hope y'all enjoyed, as always I'm on Tumblr at helaheim.tumblr.com <3


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